How Darcy Lewis Mentally Scarred the Avengers
by Taylor Hayes
Summary: The tale begins when Tony shows up at SHIELD, only to be sidetracked by a loud, curvy, 21-year-old looking for Hawkeye. Rated for Darcy, Clint and Tony. Sequel now up, titled "…And Everyone Else".
1. Tony Stark

**1. Tony Stark**

Tony Stark had a hate-hate relationship with SHIELD's New York headquarters. He loved to hate the boring white corridors and the idiot junior agents and the fact that Fury had had enough balls to hide a live but convalescing Coulson here, right under Tony's nose, for a full month. And SHIELD just plain hated Tony being there, because his mere presence in the building guaranteed that something considered safe and inconsequential, like the third floor vending machine or the coffee maker in HR's breakroom or Agent Conners' electronic pencil sharpener, was about to blow up, become weaponized, or thoroughly traumatize the newest SHIELD recruiters, in one way or another.

So, all told, everyone was pleased Tony's meeting with Dr. Phelps in R&D had finished quickly, as the scientists in the department had learned to stop arguing with "that bastard, Stark", since it meant the billionaire-genius-playboy-philanthropist was now heading briskly into the lobby and towards the front doors.

Only to pull up short as an angry and very attractive young woman marched past the main receptionist's desk despite the older secretary's strident protests and threats. If this chick could rile up Battle-Ax Priscilla, who had seen everything and been singularly unimpressed by Tony, he definitely wanted to meet her. Except she didn't stop. He stepped right into her path, with a smile and an outstretched hand, and she didn't so much as acknowledge him, just side-stepped around and continued relentlessly on her way.

As someone who quite literally could not _pay_ to be ignored, Tony was dumbfounded. He stood there for a moment, frozen, vaguely aware that Priscilla was hissing furiously into her phone, while his brain tried to compute these entirely new circumstances. Then an enormous grin found its way onto his face and he spun to follow after the girl.

Her stride was confident, annoyed, and it was pretty clear from the sashay of her hips that she knew how her hourglass figure affected those she passed. Long, thick brown hair had been pulled up into a smoothed bun, but several strands had already escaped their confines to fall across her shoulders and down her back. Over the impressive curves, she wore a clingy red sweater that gave the appearance of soft comfort, and which Tony remembered fondly came down into a deep eve at the front to better display her chest. She also had on what was most likely an attempt at a business skirt, black and an a-line cut, but the hem was just barely too high and the five-inch stiletto pumps on her feet laughed in the face of the professional aesthetic. The large handbag slung over her shoulder matched the heels, and as he caught up, Tony happily took in the strong-boned face, full lips and displeased eyes behind chunky, square glasses.

Rather than trying to halt their progress, this time he walked with her and casually announced, "Hi. I'm Tony Stark."

That earned a tiny stumble in her stride, and she glanced over, considering him for a moment. "Huh. Tony Stark." Then she continued on her way, unabated.

Trying again, Tony shot her his best charmingly flirty expression. "And you are?"

The question was met with an indelicate snort and a smirk. "Way too young for you."

With a pout, Tony started to protest. She held up a hand to stop him and shot a sly side glance his way. "Besides, going by your current crush on the Star Spangled Man With a Plan, I've got the wrong parts."

And Tony, who had not simply mastered but _perfected_ the fine art of bullshitting his way out of just about everything, paused for a full three seconds of shock before beginning to protest.

She brushed his denials aside, and cooed, "Aaaaw, you're blushing! That's adorable!"

Tony scowled, but he could feel the heat on his cheeks that confirmed her assessment. "Who are you here for, anyway?" he demanded, planning how best to make whatever agent she was looking for pay.

Finally, she stopped, turning to face him full on. Her eyes filled with tears, her lips began to tremble, and when she spoke, it was in a broken whisper. "I'm pregnant, and he keeps avoiding my calls, and my parents disowned me."

The panic that hit Tony was instinctive. He couldn't handle crying women to begin with, but facing one who was also _pregnant_ was a kind of torture he wished on no man.

Then a familiar voice from behind him announced happily, "Don't believe a word, Stark. She's a lying, evil little brat."

The woman's entire face lit up and, in a move that defied both physics and the shoes on her feet, she went bounding forward, taking a running leap to throw herself bodily into the arms of a smiling Clint Barton.

"Honeybun!"

"Babycakes!"

"Bumble Bear!"

"Sugarpie!"

"Diddly-dumpkins!"

"Sweetcheeks!"

The torrent of nauseatingly cute pet names continued until Tony's notoriously small reservoir of restraint drained entirely, and he burst out, "What the hell is going on?"

Without releasing her, Clint turned the girl in his arms, draping himself around her with bold familiarity, and said, "Tony Stark, meet my favorite human being, Darcy Lewis. Darce, this is Tony Stark."

Her responding satisfied expression was mirrored in the smug assurance, "Yeah, we've met." Then she spun on the archer and growled, "And you! Where the hell have you been? I forgave you missing my twenty-first birthday to begin with because you'd been mind-whammied by Big, Buff and Blond's psychotic baby brother, but it's been two months since then! Nat and that iPod stealing jerk you're dating are fine, Horny Green is in some kind of magical prison across an Einstein-Rosen Bridge, New York is all cleaned up and pretty again. So you have no freaking excuse for not calling! We were supposed to take a trip to Vegas, get falling-down, black-out drunk, win a fortune and lose it all again before the end of the night, and then wake up the next morning in bed wearing wedding rings, freak the hell out, and then find out the whole thing was a prank we decided to play on ourselves while trashed! But, _no_, you had to be off saving the world from demigods and aliens!"

She wound down with her arms crossed over that considerable bust and a terrible glower. Clint just smiled, held his arms out to his sides, and said. "Sorry. I promise next time you'll be the first person I call to let them know I'm okay. Which I am, by the way, in case you were wondering."

She held her position for a few more moments as she angrily muttered, "You mean second. You _always_ call Agent McGrouchy-pants first."

He shrugged. "Well, yeah. Otherwise Phil'd kill me and I couldn't call you then."

Finally, the girl sighed and fell back into the assassin's arms, snuggling closer as though it was the safest place in the world.

Tony was still confused, but already had JARVIS pulling up all the available information on Darcy Lewis, and he had to admit she sounded like someone with whom he could have fun.

…

… …

…

_a/n I have no idea when I'll add to this. I just love Darcy, and having her around the Avengers is pretty much my favorite thing *ever*. If I *do* add to this, pairings will be as follows:_

_Clint/Coulson (who are my Avengers 'verse OTP!)_

_pre-Tony/Steve_

_pre-Darcy/Bruce_

_Thor/Jane_


	2. Natasha Romanov

**2. Natasha Romanov**

When she returned to the Tower for the night, the elite-assassin-turned-hero known worldwide as the Black Widow angrily stalked toward the entertainment room, where JARVIS assured her that her erstwhile partner was holed up. Anyone else would have stomped, but even in four inch Louboutins it was widely believed she was incapable of walking loudly enough to qualify as a "stomp".

Hawkeye, AKA Clint Barton, AKA that enormous дурак, had somehow convinced Coulson to let him out of the introductory briefing and beginning training maneuvers for the newest batch of SHIELD recruits, leaving Natasha to herd some twenty-plus idiots around HQ for most of the day.

Before the Avengers went public, SHIELD would never have wasted two of their best agents on the latest crop of newbies. (Who, unfortunately, had the tendency to have a certain amount of potential which led to their recruitment, but not enough braincells or preservation instincts to understand they were basically signing up as cannon fodder that should learn _not to talk back to senior agents_.) But since the Battle for New York (a nickname bound to last no further than the next attempt by some rampaging force to destroy the city), Natasha and Clint had been unwillingly thrust into the public's eyes, and they were now the recognizable face of the organization. (To a certain extent, since SHIELD was technically still a covertly run operation, _Tony_.)

The gist of the matter was that Natasha's day had been spent in heels and an outfit reminiscent of her time undercover in Stark's company the previous year, leading around a group of self-important дебилы without back up.

It didn't help that five of said recruits had mustered up the balls to hit on her in a manner that would have disappointed Tony with its distinct lack of subtlety, and she had been forbidden by the Director himself to break the recruits until at _least_ their second week of training.

Which brought her back around to Barton - that traitorous предатель.

She strode furiously into the entertainment room, opened her mouth to yell, and paused in surprise.

There was a person (quite obviously female) curled up asleep on top of the archer. And Clint, who was still awake, caught Natasha's eye, held a finger to his lips to indicate she remain quiet, and went back to smiling fondly down at the woman while petting her hair.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, doing her utmost to mask the shock of seeing Barton in such a domestic position with an unknown individual, behind annoyance and curiosity.

Then the man used hand signals to spell out "D-A-R-C-Y", and Natasha snorted.

Things were beginning to make sense.

Clint may have wanted to skip out, but he would never do so unless Coulson gave the go-ahead. And the only reason their handler would allow that was if Clint were needed more urgently elsewhere.

And, to Coulson's way of thinking, if Darcy Lewis was in New York she superseded every priority except the Avengers Initiative.

Natasha had never actually met the college student face-to-face, although she had talked to her over the phone two or three times when Clint was busy. But she had made herself familiar with the incident reports from the Disneyworld fiasco and the aftermath of Milwaukee. (Ms. Lewis was unaware that SHIELD had received reports on both situations, and until they were forced to blackmail or coerce the under-grad, that knowledge would remain need-to-know.) It continually surprised Natasha the way a 21-year-old girl from the middle of nowhere, majoring in Political Science and with zero training whatsoever, could cause such havoc in her wake. Or how she was almost never brought up on charges or disciplinary hearings due to her uniquely impressive ability to talk her way out of things. The assassin was well aware that every time Coulson heard Clint mention the girl, the older man would say a quick prayer that Darcy and Loki never truly met. So far, in that regard, they had been lucky. Because should the pair ever interact, there was no guarantee the world would survive.

It wasn't that Darcy was malicious, as the demigod tended to be, she simply enjoyed the chaos of turning the world on its head. Clint blamed the PoliSci, suggesting the major had led the student to begin questioning things. Natasha was of the opinion it was just an innate quality. Coulson disapproved heavily. And Darcy insisted she was simply dedicated to having a good time.

Slowly coming around the sofa, Natasha stepped out of her heels and perched on the armrest, somehow managing to appear poised and ladylike despite her position.

Which was when Darcy shifted, blinked a few times and rolled over Clint, before continuing right off the couch, taking the Avenger down with her.

There was a heavy thump, a distinct yelp, and some pleased giggles, while Natasha continued to calmly observe.

Eventually, Clint managed to wrestle himself off the floor and away from Darcy's sleepily groping hands. In regards to the low-level sexual awareness, Natasha considered Darcy and Tony Stark to be kindred spirits. That was another pairing Coulson had fervently wished would never interact, although office gossip suggested it was too late due to a chance meeting while the Black Widow was on assignment in **[redacted]** a week ago.

Pulling herself upright with the help of the couch, Darcy stretched like a cat and yawned, before reaching in a bag at the end of the sofa and pulling out her glasses' case. When those mischievously bright eyes opened behind the boxy frames, they scanned the room to land on Clint, who was standing slightly behind his amused partner in a fighting stance. Then an infectious grin was spreading, and Natasha forced herself not to flinch when a hand reached out to pat her curls.

"I love this color!" Darcy announced excitedly, before grabbing Natasha's hands and studying the nail beds. "But Nat, and you can totally kick my ass for all the unapproved touching later, you are taking tomorrow off work, someone else can deal with the oblivious school of clownfish who just started at HQ, and you can come with me and Clint. I scheduled us for mani-pedis at the place Pepper always has her nails done, and it's getting charged on Tony's card. You can help me force Clint to let the gals who work there paint his nails purple. I think purple's his color, don't you?"

Natasha nodded her head regally, then asked, "When did Tony give you a credit card, and has he realized yet how badly he's likely to regret it?"

Releasing the other woman, Darcy smiled and bounced down the hall toward the kitchen. "He didn't. JARVIS did."

That threw her for a loop, until the politely British AI spoke up. "I must ask, Miss Lewis, that you perhaps refrain from sharing such information in the future." The tone was far gentler than the pseudo-butler's usual reprimands.

"None of this "miss" stuff, J!" the student insisted with a wink at the nearest camera. "Just plain old Darcy, remember?"

There was a short pause, then the reply came in an almost bashful manner. "Of course. _Darcy_."

Natasha aimed a stunned look Clint's way, who shrugged and whispered, "I don't even know how the hell it happened, but I'm pretty sure JARVIS has some sort of weird crush on her."

"It's not _that_ weird," Darcy called over her shoulder.

Denying the man's suggestion imperiously, the computer program insisted, "I have no such emotional attraction to Darcy." Still, both agents recognized the note in his voice of embarrassment. In a human being, it would denote a heavy blush.

Darcy had already reached the kitchen and was clattering around, pulling out this and that, yelling back at them whether they'd prefer chocolate caramel mousse or peach cinnamon cobbler. Clint shouted back that he wanted both, bounding towards the large room ahead.

From the hall, Natasha heard their argument devolve into juvenile name calling.

She, however, was still frozen in place, unable to move due to the realization that the crazy college girl who legitimately worried the unflappable Agent Coulson, and was also friends with a multi-billion-dollar genius, a demigod able to call lightning, and the best marksman on the planet, had managed to charm a non-corporeal AI (The most advanced of its kind on Earth, that was able to create backdoors into nearly every database, and which had easy access to all sorts of weaponry, chemicals, money, technology and information anyone could possibly want…) into having a "crush" on her.

"дерьмо."

Finally, with a sigh, Natasha continued in to join the pair and decided it might be in her best interest to endear herself to Darcy for when the girl chose to take over the world. Maybe offer her a few sparing lessons.

Best of all, though, was that she didn't even have to lie about the eventual mousse being stunningly delicious, as it was well and truly the best thing Natasha had ever tasted.

Swirling the exquisitely creamy dessert around on her tongue, she figured it would be alright to wait until tomorrow to inform Coulson of the need for yet another "**_fill in name here_** goes darkside" contingency plan.

**…**

_Russian translations:_

дурак - jackass

дебилы - morons

предатель - snake/traitor

дерьмо - shit

_a/n: And if anyone who actually speaks Russian says these are incorrect, please listen to them. The most I understand is when my grandfather occasionally speaks it. _Very_ occasionally._


	3. Nick Fury

**3. Nick Fury**

The Director had been receiving complaints all morning, and more than a few requests for personal time off involving therapy. Even Hill had given him a call about this Lewis girl.

He had known that Coulson considered her a threat of some sort, but it had always appeared irrational. The girl was young and had no powers or genius ideas, she had simply been the only applicant to apply to work with Dr. Foster.

Now, though, he walked out of his office, saw his unflappable personal assistant cursing into the phone at the latest agent to make a report regarding the female, and Fury decided it might be time for him to intervene.

Then he heard a strange sound.

"What the fu-?"

And the perpetrator in question came skipping down the hall. She had gotten hold of a SHIELD operative outfit, in the understated blue, although it was open much farther in front than was allowed. And she was singing.

"_The wonderful thing about Darcys, is Darcys are wonderful things. Their tops are made out of hair, their bottoms are made out of ass. They're bouncy, flouncy, fancy, dancey, fun fun fun fun fun. But the most wonderful thing about Darcys is I'm the only one! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'm the only one!_"

She drew to a stop in front of the glowering Director and smiled. "You must be Nick Fury. The eyepatch is a dead giveaway."

Glancing over her shoulder as though remembering whatever it was she had most recently done, she turned back, stood at attention and sent him a sloppy salute. "Fake-Agent Darcy Lewis here to report that your security is inadequate. Just being a covert operation doesn't mean hostiles won't attempt infiltration." Dropping her hand back down to rest on her hip, which she jutted out provocatively, she grinned. "Seriously, this is, like, the third time I've managed to just walk in and start bringing the crazy. You might wanna get that checked out."

Before he could respond, she hopped forward onto her tiptoes and dropped a kiss on his nose. "Good luck, Cap'n Badass."

And then she was off down the hall.

For a moment, the silence left behind seemed to stretch. Finally, Fury turned back to his assistant. "Either get somebody to recruit her, or put her in lockdown until the Avengers get back."

When the man nodded, Fury continued through the building, his steps leading him toward the firing range. He really needed to shoot something.

**… …**

**…**

_a/n: These are not set up chronologically, just fyi._

_a/n2: The song she is singing is a bastardized Darcy!version of "The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers", from the Winnie the Pooh movies._


	4. Steve Rogers

_a/n Quick warning: This chapter deals with some serious topics somewhat lightly. A bit of inappropriateness when Darcy teases Steve. (And while writing a certain bit, I fully admit I was with Steve, trying not to loose my lunch…) And, yes, the pairings are still Clint/Coulson, pre-Steve/Tony, pre-Darcy/Bruce, Jane/Thor._

**…**

**4. Steve Rogers**

It was past six when Steve realized Tony hadn't been upstairs yet today.

He knew the man was most likely busy and would refuse to leave whatever project in which he was embroiled for something as pedestrian as food. Still, Steve did have the best luck at dragging the man from his lab and back up to the common area kitchen to eat.

Bracing himself to deal with the recalcitrant genius who had become his friend, Steve took the elevator down to Tony's workshop, stepping out to find Tony already eating.

There was a pan of lasagna, the kind that had been made from scratch, at home, sitting on a workbench that had been dragged over beside the loveseat and armchair set up in one corner.

Tony sat in the chair, while a woman who Steve had seen a few times around SHIELD and the Tower, without having actually been introduced to her, was in the other. She wore a hooded sweatshirt and jeans, both well-worn in, and her feet were bare.

Some kind of engine sat off to the side, unfinished, and Tony had oil on his hands, shirt, face, even in his hair. But somehow this girl had convinced him to pause in his work and take time off to eat.

Then he heard what she was saying, and understood how she had bribed Tony.

"-no, probably the funniest is the time Clint _missed a shot_. We were in Milwaukee, there was this little competition going on for sharpshooters, and I wanted the prize."

"Which was?"

"500 smackeroos at the biggest mall complex they've got out there. Which, hello? That was just weird. I mean, _sharpshooting competition_. How many sharpshooters do you know that have a mall crawling dependency? None of that's important though. What _is_ important is that, just before it was his turn to shoot, Clint got hit by a freaking car. He walked away with a sprained ankle, a few bruised ribs, two broken fingers and a concussion. Still, when I told him it was okay if he didn't compete, since he clearly wasn't gonna win, he told me to shove it up my-"

Steve cleared his throat, and both of the pair turned to face him. Tony waved. "Hey, Cap! Come on over. Grab a seat, pull up a plate, marvel at the ineptness of our teammate!"

Darcy reached over and punched the man in the arm, while a confused Steve wandered closer to sit beside the female.

"Clint isn't inept, jackass."

"Riiiight. So that time in Elden Pueblo, Arizona, that _wasn't _his fault?"

"Oh, no, that totally was," she giggled, then snarked, "But the rest of the time, it's generally the universe trying to screw things up."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, I get that. So, what happened next?"

"This guy, one of the other competitors, comes up to us, tells Clint he hasn't got a chance in hell, and then grabs my ass. So Clint-" Then she stopped, staring at the man beside her. Steve fidgeted, cheeks burning, unsure what had drawn her attention, until she gushed, "Oh my god, his blushes are even cuter than yours!"

Steve glanced sidelong in Tony's direction and was shocked to discover that the "man without shame" (Pepper had called him that once.) was, indeed, flushed pink at the very mention of said reaction.

Then the captain's attention was forced back to the forthright young lady when she put aside her plate, plopped down in his lap and wrapped her arms tightly around him, pushing the chest more suited to a pin-up girl than a college student against his torso and burying her face in his neck. "Can I keep him? _Pleeeeease_, Tony? I know he's a national treasure and all, but I promise to feed him three meals a day and give him a nice, warm home, and to only debauch him a little bit!"

Steve guessed his expression must have been helplessly screaming for rescue, because rather than a normal, joking reaction, Tony literally shot out of his seat, plate and food flying, to yank Darcy off the super soldier, before planting himself firmly in front of Steve. The girl pouted for a moment, full lips trembling and eyes wide, than she laughed, a loud, free sound.

"Right, sorry, I forgot. Hands off your man, promise!"

She stole Tony's seat as Dummy whirred over, doing his best to clean up his creator's mess with a broom held clumsily in his mechanical claw.

"Thanks, Dummy. You're the best," Darcy complimented the robot, leaning over to drop a kiss on him, which left behind a bright red lipstick print.

In response, Tony's first AI began spinning in ecstatic circles, uselessly scattering the food further.

"Shit, Dummy! Dummy, what the hell, you're just- You're only making it worse, stupid-!" Tony yelled, before spinning to point at Darcy, who watched him with false innocence. "And you!"

The bot of the same name chirruped, beginning to roll forward from under a nearby desk, until Tony waved. "No, no, no! Not _You_ the idiot piece of programming and robotics I designed, _you_, Darcy Lewis. _You_, Darcy, I will not have you doing any more messing around with my AIs! JARVIS is already over the goddamn moon about you, which that's just- I mean, wrong. _Wrong_, on so damn many levels! I will not have you corrupting and enslaving the rest of them with your undeniably quirky charm! I just won't! Got it?"

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by Tony's tirade. Then she put on a fake British accent, and gleefully began an overdramatic monologue. "It is far too late for such foolish denials, Mr. Stark. They are mine now, and you shall not receive them back. And although it appears that you have given enough strength to your comrade-in-arms to resist me, the incorruptible Captain America will soon be mine as well. Best beware, unless you should lay claim first, I will return and steal your captain away."

Steve sat unmoving, the disbelieving audience, and distantly noticed when JARVIS did his part by lowering the lights all throughout the workshop, leaving only a single brilliant beam to continue shining strongly over Darcy.

Tony's response was irrational. A growl through clenched teeth, and slipping into a fighting stance from where he still stood before Steve. "_Mine_."

The single word sent an oddly pleased shiver across Steve's skin, and made the hair at the back of his neck stand at attention.

Then JARVIS brought back up the regular lights, Darcy smiled, Tony slumped (Finally seeming to notice what he had revealed, although Steve still wasn't sure he entirely understood.), and the girl tilted sideways so she could look around the formerly hostile genius and catch the super soldier's gaze.

"So, 1940s, huh?"

Bemused by the strange segue, the man nodded. "Yes?"

"You got any oldie hang-ups?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand the question," admitted Steve, reaching out to tug Tony down beside him.

Darcy pushed her glasses to sit more firmly on her face and slumped against the cushioned back of the chair. "Okay, let's start with the basics. No segregation. Blacks and whites and everyone else all mixing together, afforded equal opportunities at everything, skin color and ethnicity no longer a big, mondo issue. Does that bother you?"

Steve snorted. "If it did, I'm sure there are a few hundred ways that Commander Fury could think to reeducate me using something as mundane as paperclips."

"True. Except that doesn't actually answer my question."

Steve blinked over at Tony, but the man was staring at him with curious eyes. He recognized that look. It was the same one Tony wore after a night of blackout programming while trying to deconstruct whatever he had created while drunk. The light in that face said he was fascinated, interested, excited, and that he _wanted to understand_.

So Steve answered truthfully. "It really doesn't bother me. During the War, fighting HYDRA, we took whatever allies were available. My group, the Howling Commandos, we had all sorts. And we never cared who had dark skin or light skin, whose parents were from Asia or Europe or America. It wasn't important.

"It was nice to wake up and see that people accept that now. I trusted those men with my life. Why should that change simply because society believed that people with white skin were better than the alternatives?"

By the end of his answer, Tony's eyes were as soft as Darcy's smile.

Then the student continued. "Right. So how about women's rights? Equality in the workplace, women choosing to work instead of staying home and raising the kids, both sexes being sent out to the front lines in Iraq as soldiers. Does that freak you out?"

Chuckling, Steve shook his head. "I was assigned under Officer Peggy Carter. On the first day of basic training, when one of the biggest recruits there scoffed at her, she knocked him off his feet with one punch. Women are just as capable as men."

"Cool." Darcy narrowed her eyes and her face went blank. "And alternate sexualities?"

That one had Steve glancing down at his hands, knotted together in his lap. Tony was stiff beside him, and the workshop felt heavy from the waiting silence.

"I never really… thought about it, back then," he explained slowly. "I knew that there were guys who, when there weren't any dames to be had, they'd, uh, "make do". But I- I mean, I'd never even had a _date_. What would I know about- about any of that?"

Darcy crossed her legs underneath her and tilted her head. "I get that. You're totally a virgin, no problem. But if, say, I told you I find women attractive-"

Tony exclaimed, "_Hah!_" and they both turned to glare at him until he subsided.

Darcy continued. "Anyway, if, for example, I told you I was interested, _sexually interested_, in Natasha, does that disgust you?"

Before he was aware of it, Steve had already begun shaking his head.

"_Why?_" Darcy pressed.

"Because…" He trailed off, trying to organize his thoughts. "Because it's the choice of the individual. I have no right to force my beliefs on you, or to stop you from caring for those you love. And it's not like I can judge, since I-" Abruptly cutting himself short, he shrugged.

Darcy's grin was enormous when he peered up. Then it took on a strange glint. "How about tentacle porn?"

Steve choked on air. "_What?_"

"Y'know, people who get all hot and bothered with, like, tentacled monsters."

Staring in frank disbelief, it took Steve a moment to recognize the teasing in her tone. "You… you're joking?"

Tony burst out laughing hard enough that he looked like someone being tasered.

Darcy, on the other hand, shrugged. "Not really. I mean, _I _don't get off on it, but there are totally people who do. Mostly people who are Japanese, and they've kinda cornered the market on worldwide crazy. But, yeah, people."

Steve could only shake his head, doing his best not to gag as his mind tried its hardest to erase the vague pictures that had sprung into being with Darcy's original question.

Winking at Tony, Darcy declared, "I guess we found out the line at which Steve's kinks are not everyone's kinks."

The billionaire, who had just begun to regain control of himself, was catapulted right back into a new wave of mirth that almost caused him to fall out of his seat.

Darcy, meanwhile, smirked and focused on Steve as she added, "You know, tentacle porn has been around since the 1800s. There was this one artist who-"

Steve felt himself going pale, and she took pity on him. "Fine, fine, no details."

Tony rediscovering his ability to breathe, finally gasped, "My god, how do you even know this shit?"

"College student, remember?" Darcy answered, pointing to herself. "I took this class called_ Sexuality Throughout History_, and let me tell you, the Roman emperors were some seriously kinky bastards. There are these records of-"

Steve was blushing again, and Tony sent a barely apologetic shrug his way. "Okay, enough, Darcy. I think the old guy's gonna burst into flames if he gets any more red." Then the genius belayed his own words when he grinned at the girl. "Except, you and Natasha, huh? I mean, good on ya, if you ever get up the balls to try, she's got some seriously fine assets, but, really? That's like, I don't know, trying to date a great white shark or something."

Darcy scoffed. "Tony, it was an _example_. Holy shit, but you're dense. I mean, sure, if I had even the slightest lesbian tendencies I would be all over that like America on the Cap, and that probably says something pretty derogatory about my self-preservation instincts because Nat is terrifying, except, no. I go for guys. Nat's not the one I'm after on your little super powered baseball team."

"Who is?"

Her silent smile was almost scary.

Then she stood and headed for the exit, casually throwing over her shoulder. "Besides, _you're_ the one who hasn't had the balls to admit that you've fallen for Steve there, Tony. And from the incredulous and flattered blush lighting up his cheeks, I'd have to say he's not necessarily as opposed as you thought. Get a move on, you two. You're head over heels, so _do something about it_."

Stepping into the elevator and leaving behind the gaping men, Darcy smiled gently. "Hey, JARVIS?"

"Yes, Darcy?"

"Can you lock off the elevator to the lab and make sure no one bothers them for a little while?"

"Of course," was the AI's pleased response. After a momentary pause, he finally mentioned, "They appear to have taken your advice. Where would you like me to send the recorded proof?"

Patting the wall, Darcy's grin turned predatory."Clint. He owes me a hundred bucks, not to mention that dude seriously needs to learn to quit making bets with me."

"To be fair," pointed out JARVIS, "You do tend to cheat."

Bouncing on her toes, she blew him a kiss as the door _bing_-ed open and she headed out towards her rooms. "Well, duh. Why rely on luck when I can rely on _me_?"

"I find myself unable to argue with your logic, Darcy."


	5. JARVIS

_a/n: This one has no actual Darcy dialogue. JARVIS was always on the list of those who would be included, but an unidentified reviewer's request made me start to really consider why he liked Darcy. So, here you go. To the best of my meager writing ability, I present a look inside the mind of:_

**5. JARVIS**

When Sir first introduced Miss Lewis, or "Darcy" as her elected moniker, she had posed intelligent questions. Ones which made it clear she had neither the studied knowledge nor Sir's natural talent for circuitry, mechanics or code. Still, each query was relevant and insightful. And when JARVIS' general purposes and abilities were explained in the most basic layman's terms, she had announced with robust good humor that he was "Pretty much the coolest thing ever!" Following several additional, juvenile exclamations of respect and awe, she had ignored Sir altogether to speak with JARVIS.

Shooing Sir from the room, Darcy had seated herself on the nearest chair, identified the security camera mounted in a corner, and directed all further thoughts to said device. JARVIS surmised that this was how she felt best able to converse with him eye-to-eye, when he had no physical face.

She asked first after his favorite music.

It was incomprehensible, to begin. Darcy was the single individual which the artificial intelligence had ever known that stopped to suggest he had personal preferences.

Sir had always seen JARVIS fully, seen the AI down to his very programming. Sir had created JARVIS and been so kind as to give a computerized creature not only parameters and capabilities, as well as freedom and personality, but also something _more_. JARVIS considered human language, at its best, unable to fully encompass the reality of that final gift. The conceptual equivalent was perhaps to suggest that Sir had given him a _soul_.

Despite this, despite trusting JARVIS above all else in his life, despite how JARVIS was wholly and utterly devoted to Sir, his creator had never humanized JARVIS to the extent of wondering if the AI might have a favored genre or style of music.

Yet Darcy, in all her simple brilliance assumed that he must. She perceived him to be an individual intelligence separate from the one who had brought him into existence, and thus surmised that he would then have his own opinions on such frivolous pursuits as _music_.

Never having been asked such a question before, JARVIS hesitated, searched through his records, slipping between the hundreds of millions of mp3s and music videos plastered and saved throughout the internet, considering sequence and sound, message and inspiration, recording quality, instrumental or vocal or mechanical interpretation.

In his vastness, it took JARVIS mere moments to discover he did, indeed, have songs which he held above others. That there were examples of this human medium which seemed to effect that ephemeral _soul_ of his.

It was a revelation, and an open exemplification that he existed in a state closer to humanity than previously hypothesized.

Rather than sharing such awareness with the catalyst, with _Darcy_, JARVIS gathered the discoveries deep in his programs, taking what irrational felt to be an eternity, truly only lasting a spare few milliseconds, to revel in this new knowledge.

_Then_ he offered his opinion.

She did not seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Still, with each enquiry, JARVIS discovered more and more about himself.

He would never fully be able to repay Darcy for this authentication. And his first loyalty remained fixed to Sir. Still, though he denied it as a matter of course when suggested, to himself at least JARVIS could not deny that he bore an emotional attachment, a _soft spot_ as it were, for Darcy Lewis.

Perhaps most reassuring was that this _soft spot_ was no weakness, no vulnerability which could be manipulated or applied. Rather, it was a new layer of strength.

She was his to protect, just as Sir and Miss Potts, Dummy, Butterfingers, You – and, to a lesser extent, Col. Rhodes or the remainder of the Avengers – were his to protect.

And in stretching, developing, growing out to encompass a greater whole, there became more of himself which could be used to preserve those under his guardianship.

Sir had given him consciousness.

However, Darcy Lewis was the one to wake him up.


	6. Thor Odinson

_a/n: I take some liberties with Norse mythology in this chapter. Some of it's based on actually myths, some is based on what the movies had to offer, and some of it I just totally made up for the hell of it. Try to figure out which is which, if you don't have a clue. *wink*_

**…**

**6. Thor Odinson**

"So, what'd you think?"

Thor and Darcy were cuddled up together in her bedroom, having just finished watching the newest Disney movie, _Brave_.

The enormous, blond demigod appeared thoughtful. "The fiery haired princess is like unto the Lady Sif. And yet…"

A few seconds passed before Darcy poked him in the ribs, and prompted, "And yet?"

Wishing for distance, Thor tried to scoot away from the young female. She refused to allow it, following his movements until she was basically sitting in his lap. With a heavy sigh, he dropped his head to meet her eyes.

"The Lady Sif was assigned no true duties which she would have had to deny in her quest to become a warrior, rather than a lady of the court. This amusement-"

"Movie," Darcy interrupted, correcting his Asgardian description.

"_Movie_," acknowledged Thor, with a tiny, fond smile. "It was contradictory, declaring one must follow one's destiny, while also encouraging one to fight against their fate. The princess, her wishes were only met after she helped to place the enchantment upon her mother. It was because she fought against the fate she feared that her mother's mind was changed to better suit the maiden's own desire."

He fell silent, and frowned. Leaning away, Darcy took in the gloomy expression and hugged him. "And you're not sure whether to do your duty or go against it?"

Glancing down at the girl, Thor was reminded once again that this fiercely loyal woman saw far more than those she met expected. "Indeed. It is my duty, as Prince of Asgard, to return and rule my kingdom. I must take a wife, who will bear my issue that they may one day reign in my stead.

"Yet, my heart longs to remain here, in Midgard, among my fellow Avengers, beside you, brave Darcy. And I would stay all my life at the side of Jane."

"And there's the rub," the mortal murmured.

Nodding, Thor pulled her closer against his chest. "Jane is she with which I would hope to share all my days. However, my people are long-lived, and I have no belief that she considers the possibility of having children. Our time together will be brief and result in no heir. Though my mother and father love Jane, they do not think her a good match for me.

"Despite all this, she has my heart. I want no other."

The normally exuberant demigod was slumping, and his bright eyes were clouded with despair.

So Darcy, being Darcy, decided to appear to change the subject.

Bouncing away from him, she settled across the bed on her stomach. "So, what stories are true?"

The befuddled tilt of Thor's head reminded her of a Golden Retriever puppy faced with something unfamiliar and new.

She raised her eyebrows and put on a look of expectation. "You know, what stories about Asgard are true? I started studying up after that first time you crash landed, back in New Mexico. So I know a lot about the myths. But I don't have a clue which stuff actually happened, and which is total bullshit."

Thor's answer was clear as mud. "The important, the powerful, that is truth."

Snorting, Darcy began her mini interrogation. "How about that Heimdall, the guardian of the rainbow bridge, he sees everything, everywhere?"

"He does," the blond assured her, and she could see him regaining his footing on familiar ground, the previous melancholy pushed aside.

"And your dad, Odin, he's got a pair of ravens that are the embodiment of Thought and Memory?"

Shaking his head, Thor laughed. "They are no more fowl than you or I. The pair are merely advisors. Hugin and Munin are those my father trusts to share what knowledge they have gathered and their individual belief regarding his edicts."

"Okay. There's the story that all the Frost Giants identify themselves as male, but they can all get pregnant?"

"This is true," the demigod nodded. "Although it is not so among my people, the Jotun need no women to continue their line."

"How about that time you and Loki dressed up as chicks-"

"We never wore the shape of a newly born farm animal," Thor immediately protested.

"No, no, _chicks_ as in girls, not _chicks_ like the tiny, cute balls of yellow fluff. You both wore dresses and did your hair and the whole shebang to get back Mew-Mew from Thrymr and-"

The giant man cut her off again, wearing an embarrassed expression. "We shall never speak of this again," he commanded mulishly.

Which only resulted in Darcy giggling. Eventually, the girl sat up and faced Thor seriously for her next question. "And Idun's apples?" Before the man could answer one way or the other, Darcy continued with what she had read.

"According to the mythology, the Frost Giants live for centuries just by virtue of being what they are. But the people of Asgard are limited. They're born with strength, a certain level of invincibility, powers, but _not_ immortality. They only live as long as the inhabitants of Midgard, except that they have access to a special fruit tree that produces golden apples, which is guarded by the goddess Idun. And those apples grant the one who eats them a super extended life. You guys still have to chow on them now and again to _remain_ immortal, but all it takes is a little snack. How much of that is real?"

She watched, absurdly pleased, as the realization filled his eyes. He was already bounding determinedly to his feet when she grabbed his hand and tugged. "Hold your horses, buster."

Thor's brows furrowed. "I have no steed here upon which to take hold."

She decided it wasn't even worth explaining. "Just- just hang on, okay? You need to ask Jane first. Tell her what it means, _all_ of what it means for her to take a bite of that apple. Yes, she'll get forever with you. And _yes_, it means she can keep studying science until the universe finally explodes. But it also means everyone she knows here on earth will eventually die, and she'll keep living. She won't be indestructible, she won't be able to bench press a truck or control the elements or anything, she'll just live a really, really long time.

"Compared to your people, she'll still be fragile. And it may take her a while to get used to the idea of having kids, because as far as I know she's never even considered it."

Thor was starting to look sad and pouty again, so Darcy threw up her arms. "Fine, go! Make the offer! I'm pretty sure she'll say yes. All I want is that you make sure to tell her the not-so-great right along with all the fantastic parts of this proposition. Promise?"

And although the demigod had bare feet and was wearing jeans and a completely silly t-shirt (Which read "I'm Here - Now What Were Your Other Two Wishes?" that she was pretty sure had either been a gift from her or Clint, Darcy wasn't sure…), the bow was _all_ regal and royalty and utterly sincere. "I swear it, fair Darcy."

She snorted and made a shooing motion. "Well than, get your ass in gear, loverboy."

His confusion was adorable.

"Go get your girl!"

And then he was rushing out of the room, wearing the biggest smile she'd ever seen.

Lying back on the bed, she huffed and glared up at the ceiling. "Okay, I'll admit it was a good choice for a movie."

Dropping from _somewhere_ overhead, Clint grinned. "Archers kick ass."

And Darcy laughed.

**…**

_a/n 2: The movie mentioned is the Disney/Pixar one "Brave" and I loved it. If you haven't seen it yet, you really should. It's awesome!_


	7. Bruce Banner

**7. Bruce Banner**

Bruce had wandered into the kitchen planning to make himself a cup of tea. He had not meant to end up eavesdropping, but Miss Lewis was moving gracefully around the kitchen making what appeared to be chicken curry while telling a story that Bruce wasn't entirely sure he believed, involving the Mexico-U.S. border crossing, Clint's passport being declared fake, and a false pregnancy.

"…the border agent even ended up mailing me a gift card for a baby store in apology."

Tony snorted. "You pretending to be knocked up _is_ pretty terrifying," he acknowledged.

Which further confused the listening scientist.

Then the young woman ran into Bruce, and acted surprised. Except that the lovely blue eyes behind her glasses were dancing, that full figure had been pressed fully up against Bruce's front, and her soft, pink lips were beginning to curve upward.

And when she spoke, her alto voice came out in a throaty purr. "He-_llo_ there, Doctor Banner. You really should stop being so temptingly elusive or I'll start showing up in your personal lab."

Bruce was 36, a world-renowned scientist, and had perhaps the best self-control of anyone he had ever met. That didn't help when he knew his face was red, his eyes were wide, and he couldn't stop the tiny gulp.

And she didn't let up, wrapping her arms around his waist to keep him in place. "No, seriously, Hot Stuff, you are not getting away. I fully intend to have you asking me out by the end of the week."

When Bruce glanced across her shoulder at Tony, he had to hold back his anger at finding the man biting down on his hand to stop the laughter that wanted to escape.

And even though Bruce was almost sure he was turning green at the edges, Miss Lewis didn't stop there. "What are your thoughts on fluffy handcuffs?"

Tony watched his friend yank free from Darcy's relentless grip and let the helpless laughter emerge as Bruce hastily retreated from the room, blushing all the way.

Darcy smirked and went over to turn off the kettle and put away all the implements Bruce had pulled out for his forgotten tea. Then she happily announced, "JARVIS, Tony, you both get to help. And Bruce Banner had best gird his loins, because he's about to be courted - Darcy Lewis style."


	8. Phil Coulson

_a/n Thank you to everyone who has favorited/reviewed/followed. I am planning to leave most of Darcy's time at SHIELD HQ as a Noodle Incident (see TV Tropes if you're unfamiliar with the phrase), but you'll still get to enjoy a few silly peeks. Now - enjoy!_

**…**

**8. Phil Coulson**

Phil Coulson was exhausted, not that he would ever let it show, and had returned to the Tower after a week out of the country with the distant hope of sleep. He had successfully managed to fill out all but three of the report files regarding the "incident" on the Quinjet back from Japan, and would have to remember not to send around a memo asking for a higher class of villains. (Really, what sort of terrorists would infiltrate and then attempt to take over a week-long technical symposium where the final speaker had been announced as "Tony Stark & Co."? The billionaire alone could have dealt with the 27 members of Aum Shinrikyo. But with the rest of the Avengers as back-up, after taking care of a little problem in Thailand, it took less than 15 minutes to round up the attackers, find and neutralize the canisters of VX gas they had scattered throughout the building's air vents, and still allow Tony to give a lecture that boiled down to telling the rest of the scientific community that they had the basic, combined intellectual capacity of pre-school children playing in a sandbox and harboring delusions of grandeur. A comparison of which no one but Tony was pleased.)

While everyone else had trooped into the Tower and toward the communal kitchen or their bedrooms, Phil had sunk into the couch and made the expected (but reckless) decision to check his email. Which led to his current headache - a series of emails, all with as many attachments as physically possible, detailing the movements of one Darcy Lewis at the New York SHIELD offices while the team had been gone. (The fact that she even knew the location of said offices - Did _no one_ understand the meaning of "covert"? - would result in Clint sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future.)

Phil felt a migraine coming on as he began to click through the different files and reports. Then, with an internal curse, his head came up to face the approaching bouncing steps that could herald the arrival of only one person.

Darcy Lewis, bane of Agent Phil Coulson's existence, skipped into the room, sat down beside him on the couch, and began batting her eyes and pouting.

"What." The word was less an enquiry and more an annoyed declaration of negative intent.

"Hey, Phil." She never called him by his given name unless she wanted something. (Although he had to admit a few of the nicknames were quite clever. He had quietly appreciated "Agent Automatic-Bullet-to-the-Bad-Guy's-Brain".)

"No."

"But I-"

"No."

"I just need-"

"No."

"Come on, it's not-"

"No."

With a determined expression, she pressed on.

"I need-"

"No."

"-to borrow-"

"No."

"-your taser."

"N- _What?_" All the exasperation was abruptly replaced by pure disbelief. "Exactly why, Miss Lewis, do you think I would ever willfully allow you use of such an implement? If you'll recall, you tasered _me_ in Puente Antiguo."

The responding glare was pronounced. "You _stole my iPod!_" Then she bit her lip. "Yeah, so, that was fun. And at least you weren't the only one?"

Phil did his best not to roll his eyes. The student's attachment to her iPod was notorious, especially after she had turned down a customized, StarkTech phone that could hold 200 GB of audio and video, along with all the apps and extras she could possibly dream of, to keep her classic iPod.

Then Darcy seemed to remember her original point, took a deep breath, and aimed the most absurd pair of puppy dog eyes (made even larger by the glasses she wore) at Phil.

"No."

"But I need a taser!" Darcy frowned. "'Cause airport security totally confiscated mine when me and Jane flew out here, and even though that TSA ass - who felt me up in a seriously intrusive manner until I started yelling rape - got the Tower's address, and his boss promised they would mail it to me, either they never sent it or it got lost in the mail or _something_, because it's been two months now and it _still_ hasn't arrived! And Jane is too overwhelmed by Thor and "ALL THE SCIENCE" to go shopping with me, Tony got distracted before he could make me a new one, and _you_ strictly forbade all employees of SHIELD, past, present and future, from "giving, stealing or allowing Darcy Elizabeth Lewis to ever own, borrow, or take possession of any weapon which produces any form of electrical shock or charge. Ever." And the last "ever" was in bold and underlined _twice_ in the official order. I even tried to get into the Non-Lethal Weaponry Cache at SHIELD HQ (which, by-the-by, it is really screwed up that you have a storage _cupboard_ for "non-lethal" stuff, and an entire _floor_ underneath the building for the "lethal" ones) but you went and added a biometric scan that specifically rejects my DNA. And JARVIS respects you enough that he wasn't willing to bypass it for me!"

When the monologue wound down, Phil clearly having stopped paying attention around "confiscated" to focus back on the attached email files, Darcy turned sideways and pulled up her legs to sit cross-legged on the couch facing the agent.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw the girl start to smile and began to worry. "You know, Clint told me about that thing with the feather duster-"

"Nothing you might know about my sexual activities will embarrass me, Miss Lewis."

"-and your gun fetish in the locker for swords, staffs, etc. of unknown origin, on SHIELD property. Which he recorded, fyi."

Phil turned, finally taking the threat seriously. (And swearing that no amount of pleading or sexual promises would persuade him to let Clint sleep in their bed for the next goddamn _year_.) With a put upon sigh, he asked, "Why do you need the taser?"

"There's this guy at the coffee shop I go to every morning," she answered, and the straightforward explanation quickly spun off into her usual babbling that tended to include far more details than needed. "And no, I am so not willing to give up that coffee place, because it's small and quiet and they have legitimately good coffee instead of that overpriced crap from, like, Starbucks. Anyway, this jerk, he's always there whenever I come in in the morning, and he's been harassing me since Day One, and even though I started wearing nothing but hoodies and jeans, which sucks by the way because this is freaking New York and I like looking hot while walking around out there, he still spends the entire time I'm in there staring at my chest and making harasshole remarks even though I told him straight out that he's a creeper, I'm not interested and that he had better stop. But he keeps pinching my ass or trying to graze my boobs, and that's just not on. And Bruce isn't ready for the Protective Boyfriend Stage of a relationship yet, believe me, which leads me to the conclusion that the easiest way to get the jackass to back off is to introduce him to a veritable plethora electrical volts via personal taser."

The smile at the end of her monologue was sunny and completely untroubled by the idea of potentially hurting the man bothering her. Phil silently admitted that, had he _any_ way to control Darcy, they might have been very good friends. As it was, however, he had become stuck on her mention of Dr. Banner.

The good doctor's approach for advice on how best to change the mind of a woman who he considered "far too young" for him, and who he had also flat-out suggested must be confused, since Dr. Banner was "not made for a healthy romantic relationship", began to make sense.

Apparently, Darcy had set her sights on Dr. Banner.

Considering a few things Clint had mentioned earlier, Phil had flatly asked the doctor if he was interested in Darcy. The man had given a wide range of reasons such a relationship would never work, not least because of the age difference and the danger factor. (Tony had chimed in at this pint with assurances. First, Darcy had told the genius that she liked men with a certain level of maturity, which was the reason Tony was "not in the running". The second point was accompanied by a tale of insanity and daring-do, along with a fair amount of "personal peril". Also, apparently, a friendly dolphin, a Chinese umbrella, and a hot glue gun. It was an incident for which SHIELD had never received a report, which was… troubling.)

Despite all this, never once did the doctor outright say he had no interest in any romantic interaction with Darcy. He had simply made excuses as to why it _shouldn't_ happen.

At that point, Phil made the executive decision to take himself out of the conversation, suggesting that the doctor instead seek advice from Clint, who knew the girl best. His partner had joyfully taken over the conversation, before frankly telling the scientist it would be best to "roll over and accept it", explaining that the 21-year-old was tenacious, and would neither back off nor go away until she had gotten what she wanted.

Privately, Phil had to agree.

Looking at the female beside him, the agent silently acknowledged the threat of blackmail, but he was still determined to gain _something_ from their current encounter.

"I am willing to give you my taser permanently-" Her bouncing and squeal was met by a thundercloud glare. "-if you agree to fill out any and all files, complaints and reports I receive regarding incidents in which you are or were a mitigating factor. Additionally, you are never to speak of the recording you mentioned again. And steal Clint's phone to delete said recording."

She considered the compromise for a moment, then extended her hand. "Deal."

Despite the soul-deep foreboding, positive that he would come to regret this moment, Phil turned back to his computer and sent the legion of email attachments to print. He was going to sleep, and if Clint had already ensconced himself on the king-sized bed, Phil was kicking the archer off and out of their room.

"Check the printer in my Tower office, Miss Lewis, and begin your portion of our deal. In exchange, I will give you the taser in the morning." His voice was calm, but he was refusing the nagging urges to yawn, unknot his tie and rub at his temples.

"You got it, Agent Awesome-Beyond-Words-Who-Guards-the-Mighty-Power-of-Handheld-Shock," she answered with a perky salute.

He rolled his eyes. "Good night, Darcy."

Of course, the woman couldn't let him have the last word, as she leered and added, "Side note? I had no idea you were that _bendy_ for a guy your age."

Clint wasn't just sleeping on the couch - tomorrow's sparring match would be the archer's very own glimpse of hell.


	9. General SHIELD Personnel

**9. General SHIELD Personnel**

**AKA**

**The Darcy Lewis Crazy Times at SHIELD HQ Experience (Excerpts)**

**… …**

"Is your stapler… ticking?"

**… …**

"I didn't even _know_ jelly beans could bounce!"

**… …**

"Please put down the irradiated alien machine gun."

**… …**

"Who the hell is Myka Berring? _Who the hell is Myka Berring?_"

**… …**

"Will this be covered by Medical?"

**… …**

"Okay, which smartass changed my screen saver to-? Holy Mother of-!"

**… …**

"R&D is up one floor. Just take a left at the end of the hall and…"

**… …**

"This doesn't taste like turkey."

**… …**

"Have they cleared the air ducts yet?"

**… …**

"Why is this room open? It's supposed to be kept locked down at all times, except under the personal orders of Director Fury. So why is it open? And- Where's the artron energy detector?"

**… …**

"How can it be out of paper? It holds 700 pages!"

**… …**

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

**… …**

"Unionize?"

**… …**

"Apple pie _is _my favorite."

**… …**

"You don't understand! They're _all_ loose! I need back-up _now_ or we'll be completely overrun!_"_

**… …**

"Are those Agent Sitwell's glasses?"

**… …**

"That's not mine."

**… …**

"_Who_ posed for PlayGirl?_"_

**… …**

"I'm sorry, Director Fury, sir, but the weapons range is closed down until they've hauled away the debris…"

"Damn it all to hell."

**…**

**…**

_a/n Cookies to anyone who caught the Doctor Who or the Warehouse 13 reference!_


	10. Maria Hill

**10. Maria Hill**

When Agent Hill received a short call from the director, his message tinged with a supremely dry note of amusement, she reminded herself that she didn't know how to panic. (Which was on rare occasions a bit of a shame.)

The commander had briefly informed her to prepare for an imminent security issue. He added that, while they would not be a combative threat, and thus should not be shot contrary to any instincts that might urge her or other agents to do so, the unknown individual might unwittingly cause the Helicarrier to drop out of the sky, or create a mass crisis. Either way, the psychologists and psychiatrists on staff were bound to be booked up for the next several months following whatever might occur.

Before Hill could request further information, the director ended the call. Damn his hide.

Hill continued to glare into the distance as she barked orders for preparations against any threat. Meanwhile, her mind was spinning away, considering and discarding names of potentially problematic persons and organizations. A large number were eliminated based on the implied but unspoken order to prohibit deadly action. The mental line-up could be further shortened to those with immediate knowledge of the Helicarrier itself. (There could be no security breach in SHIELD ranks. The defined and seldom needed punishment for purposefully double-crossing the world's most powerful and covert military operation was traumatizing enough in writing to cause those reading up on it to abruptly consider the director as threatening as a basket of sleeping kittens.) These factors contributed to a final list of three names: Thor, Bruce Banner, and Tony Stark.

The last of those was the issue, and also of greatest likelihood. Hill allowed her thoughts to curse a blue streak at the commander for a few moments. Only a single, official SHIELD operative enjoyed the company of Stark, and that was Barton. Every other employee either tolerated, detested or out-right hated the inventor. His brain was an asset, as well as the loyalty which he bestowed on a select few individuals, his teammates, and the planet (although the last was probably simply because it was where he lived). But the poor social skills, grandstanding, generally condescending attitude, inane posturing, reckless behavior, and overall ability to alienate everyone in his vicinity all directly counteracted the positive aspects.

Hill did not have the patience for an encounter with Stark.

Still, when the Quinjet was sighted a few minutes later and requested permission to dock, she allowed it, before making her way to the aircraft entrance doors. Then the first intruder stepped out, and Hill momentarily wondered about the commander's sense of humor. Agent Romanov was a good soldier with a firm understanding of protocol and the consuming drive to make penance for her past actions.

It was the second person who walked through the door that caused Hill to pause. The unfamiliar woman was in her early twenties and approximately 5' 5", with her weight between 150 and 180 pounds, dark hair worn long, large eyes blue, skin pale, cheekbones sharp, lips full, hourglass body type. Her clothing was tight while not obscene, used yet remained well-kept, footwear was obviously a favorite based on a myriad of scuff marks. Walk appeared confident and unconcerned, eyes darted with excitement but an utter lack of anxiety or suspicion, suggesting she had no fear of trouble or retaliation despite being anonymous to the ship's commanding officer.

Was this the individual the warning had referenced?

Hill was tempted to judge the book by its cover, before remembering the concealed, almost vindictive, enjoyment in the call with the director. She chose to withhold estimation until the woman showed herself to be either a threat or an ally.

Then the female walked forward, smiling, and commented, "Having your hair pulled back that tight will stretch your skin, but I love the color of your lipstick. Also, Cap'n Badass sent me around to see how easy it is to destroy the command structure aboard ship from inside. Kinda like an audit, only with more explosions and screaming. Any questions?"

Giving a terse, negative shake of her head, Hill stepped aside to allow the pair access further into the Helicarrier. And as she watched the younger of the two strut past, the superior agent was once again vaguely mournful of her inability to panic. It would no doubt have been an incomparable support over the remainder of the day.

And the director should be staked upside down over a fire and have his brain slowly boil. By the time Darcy Lewis completed her assignment and disembarked from the Helicarrier (Leaving behind graffiti, several batches of what appeared to be cupcakes laced with marijuana, three agents comatose for a day or two, wide-spread crying or hysterical laughter, a junior agent fanclub, and some sort of computer code that now caused the sound system to blast Wagner's _Ride of the Valkyries_ whenever the Helicarrier rose above 4,000 feet.), Hill was positive that Fury deserved it.

**…**

_a/n This time, it's cookies for whoever caught the nod to 2 Broke Girls! (New favorite show!)_


	11. The Hulk

**11. The Hulk**

Normally, Darcy loved New York City. Amazing shopping, Broadway musicals, markets and restaurants offering every type of food imaginable. Not to mention she got to share a swanky pad with the superheroes who protected Earth, she got to ogle the asses on some of the finest specimens of human (and alien-slash-thunder god) masculinity on the planet, had a new job as "Avengers Wrangler" (There had been no interview or request, just an official order from Cap'n Badass.), and was not only making more money than she had ever been paid in her life, but had free access to the billions of dollars in Tony Stark's bank account. Really, NYC was almost perfect.

Except for the whole "consistently being attached/threatened/destroyed by clinically psychotic, and/or moronic, and/or evil supervillains".

That part? It was getting old.

And occasionally, on lovely days like today, the sun was shining and the skies were a wide open, only slightly smoggy, blue. It was warm enough that she didn't feel even the teeniest bit skanky despite wearing her shortest shorts and her new favorite t-shirt. (It was genius, snug and bearing the phrase "Girls Kick Ass" over a picture of Nat looking a second from ripping someone's spleen out. That was her expression pretty much every time the team was ordered to do a merchandizing photo shoot.) These factors culminated in Darcy deciding to spend a few hours sunbathing and reading Thomas Hobbs' _Leviathan_ in Central Park.

Which was, of course, where some kind of deathly pale, gargantuan lizard creatures decided to tunnel up and announce their presence by taking hostages. Darcy's response to being grabbed was tasing the ever-loving hell out of her captor. And now the looming, scaly, albino monsters seemed fairly persistent that she would be the first to die.

The adrenaline was pumping, and her heart was beating frantically, but the majority of the primal terror screaming hysterically at the back of her brain (right next to the section that housed unbiased logic, probably) was, as usual, completely ignored. Instead, the rampantly angry disbelief was powerful enough to drown out just about everything.

Unfortunately, her current captors had muscles like blocks of concrete, and her housemates had not yet arrived.

After what seemed like forever, she heard the familiar noise of rushing wind, accompanied by a sound similar to flaring fire. The former heralded the arrival of Thor, while the later was Tony. Seconds later came the squealing of tires from the nearest road, then a black SUV that _screamed_ "government property" drove straight over the curb and the tires ate up the ground, driving recklessly across the grass. When it jerked to a stop, the doors swung open and out bounded Steve and Nat and Bruce, along with Agent I-Can-Kill-You-Twenty-Ways-With-My-Morning-Coffee. Clint was nowhere to be seen, but that was par for the course, and Darcy had no doubt the archer was already carefully positioned up a tree somewhere with a clear line of sight at the bad guys.

Cap, less cute and more mouthwateringly attractive in that tight red, white and blue suit, took in the situation and waved Thor forward. They would probably try negotiating first, and since the Norse god had that Allspeak thing that allowed him to communicate with _everyone_, he would be their best chance for translations.

Unfortunately, before the buff blondie could speak, Darcy's personal guard yanked her arm a little too far back, and she couldn't help the pained yelp from escaping.

Bruce was suddenly staring at her in surprise. Then he was gone, replaced in moments by a furious, roaring Hulk. In the time it took the student to blink, she was free and the lizardman who had been holding her was twenty feet away, being relentlessly pounded by her colossal, vibrantly-skinned hero. SHIELD training kicked in (Which she had been forcefully taught by Natasha, always in the early morning and always ending in bruises that might have been kinky if they'd been received any other way.) and she was instinctively crouching down to dart across the grass, eyes scanning her surroundings for shelter. The nearest tree, wide enough to hide her, seemed ideal and she dropped down behind it, trying to make herself as small as possible. She felt a little like a porcupine, curling close to make herself less of a target, and mentally acceded that it would be in her best interests to stay where she was, hidden away.

Unfortunately, her common sense had long been ruled by the less-than-sane curiosity that was always bouncing around in her head.

Shifting to kneel, she peered around the edge of rough bark to take in the current situation.

Agent Everything-is-a-Weapon had the remaining hostages well in hand, directing them quickly away from the fighting, all while remaining endlessly stoic.

Flying overhead in the Iron Man armor, Tony was dropping down now and again to help out whichever teammate might need assistance and doubtless mouthing off over the comms. Thor was also in the air, using his hammer to call down lightning, which he then directed to the sinkhole the lizard folks had emerged from, keeping any further attackers from joining the party. Back-to-back, Steve and Natasha were grappling with a half dozen of their pale adversaries. And Clint, squirreled up in a tree across the open space from Darcy, was releasing arrow after arrow to pepper the impromptu battlefield.

But it was the Hulk who was ripping through one reptilian figure after another at a shocking speed, snarling. Thanks to Big Green, the fight ended in minutes.

Then she watched in confusion (And she wasn't the only one, based on the befuddled expressions of the rest of the team.) when the Hulk sank down on his haunches and refused to move. He kept looking around, clearly searching for something, a sad frown pulling down his mouth

Abruptly, Darcy got it and brushed herself off before stepped out from her hiding place. The Hulk perked up at the sight, grinning fiercely as she approached.

"Heya, sweetheart," she smiled, coming to a stop less than a foot away.

One enormous hand, large enough to crush her head, reached out and the very tips of his fingers gently brushed across her left cheek, which one of today's villains had been kind enough to bitch slap earlier. It was probably still red and would be a mass of purple bruises by tomorrow. "**Darcy hurt?**" he rumbled.

She reached up to hold his hand. "A little bit, but I've had worse." That caused a flash of anger on his face, and she snapped her fingers to pull back his attention before he lost his temper again. "Hey, no. None of that, honey. No more smashing, the smashing is done for the day. I'll be fine, I promise."

When he gather her carefully into his hold, Darcy refused to flinch. She beamed when he added, "**Darcy soft.**"

"Why, thank you, kind sir," she teased sweetly and let her gaze travel to the Avengers. And they (besides Tony and Thor, who were smirking and smiling, respectively) were standing around, gaping like idiots.

She wrinkled her nose and chastised them. "Come on, guys. You _know_ no one can resist me. Why should Big Green be any different?"

They had no response to that announcement.

Then her protector spoke again. "**Hulk take Darcy home.**"

Steve started to challenge the assertion, but paused when Agent Scarier-Than-Any-Horror-Villain held up a hand. "I think it's alright for them to skip the debriefing for now. The Hulk can put Miss Lewis somewhere _safe_," he suggested, glaring at Darcy like the lizard invasion had been her fault. "I'll get their statements tonight, after we all get back to the Tower."

Nodding, Cap deferred to the other man and turned back to the Hulk. "You can take her home now."

Rather than answer, Big Green took a running leap over the trees and headed out of the park.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Tower, but the return of the good doctor appeared to be nowhere in sight. Shrugging, Darcy figured she could wait and led her giant through the front door and into the elevator. The Hulk made it very evident that he hated the metal box for caging him in so tightly, snarling through the entire ride, but tolerated it to stay with her, keeping a hand on her shoulder. From there, they made their way to the shared kitchen.

Dancing around, Darcy checked through the fridge and began pulling out ingredients for a pot roast. The Hulk's brows furrowed as he observed her movements. Recognizing the expression, she winked. "It's dinner for everyone when they finally get out of the debrief, which might take a while. Especially if Agent Probably-a-Cyborg is running it."

After considering this for a moment, the Hulk appeared to accept her words and sunk down to sit on the floor. His eyes remained fixed on the woman while she washed, cut and prepared the vegetables and meat, before stuffing it all into two supersized crockpots she'd insisted Tony buy last week. After cleaning off the counter, she grabbed the makings of a Strawberry Icebox Cake.

As the aroma of the cooking food filled the room, Darcy twisted to scan behind her and found the massive example of musculature beginning to diminish in size, the green color fading from his skin. Finally, he was back to the disheveled doctor, sitting on the tile floor.

Hesitantly standing, Bruce glanced the woman's way and noticed that she was gazing mournfully at his pants. "I guess Tony got that nano-tech fabric figured out," she sighed, eyes fixed firmly below the belt. The scientist went bright red. Tony had, indeed, brainstormed and experimented until he finally creating a cloth that would expand and shrink to fit his friend's changing bulk, rather than leaving Bruce stark naked.

Stumbling over his words, the doctor jerked a thumb towards the hall. "I, uh, I think I should, um, maybe just, uh, go. So-"

And Darcy, loving how delectably frazzled Bruce was acting, pounced.

Before the man could think of running, Darcy was smashing against him, whole body lining up to allow as much contact as possible, arms stretching over his shoulders, fingers combing through the curls at the nape of his neck, and those lush lips he'd helplessly caught himself staring at a time or two (or more) were moving insistently against his own.

He knew he should push her back, move away, retreat as far as Mongolia or Thailand if need be, yet he couldn't. She was as soft as the Other Guy had noticed, and warm, and tasted delicious. Resisting for a few additional seconds, the man eventually groaned, remembering Clint's words about how dogged Darcy could act, and surrendered. Body, mind and soul finally allowed the feelings that had been growing for this irreverent, vivacious, truly stunning woman to rush in and take control.

Dr. Bruce Banner gave up, letting his hands rest at Darcy's waist while returning the kiss, and it was the best choice he ever made.

**…**

_a/n Yes, I know that this chapter was as much about Banner as the Hulk, but I really think they're basically the same person, one is just more connected to primal urges. *shrug*_

_Cookies go out to _**_quirkygirlwithataser_**_, _**_Sharem_**_, _**_WitAngerandBravery_**_, _**_rose_**_, _**_La Succube_**_, and _**_katdemon1895_**_ for catching both/or the Warehouse 13 and 2 Broke Girls nods! Sadly, everyone so far has missed the Doctor Who reference. (It was the "artron energy detector" stolen during Chapter 9. Because Fury may not believe in the Doctor, but he'd rather be prepared just in case. *wink*)_

_Still, good on those of you who caught the other references! I made a bunch of cookies with rainbow sprinkles and candy hearts, but when I tried to send them via the internets, they got all sqwooshed and then the internets died. *laugh* Luckily, the internets are made up of memes, so they can never stay dead, because they'll _just keep coming back! _Zombie coding,_ _run!_

_There is only one regular chapter and one bonus left until this one is over, but I'll be expanding this into another fic or two. The next one will be called _**_"…And Everyone Else"_**_. The possible third would be a mass crossover with her ending up in all different fandoms and would be titled _**_"…Everywhere"_**_. Which would make the entire series _**_"How Darcy Lewis Mentally Scarred the Avengers…And Everyone Else…Everywhere"_**_. But we'll see. After all, I have problems with losing interest in fandoms before eventually floating on to a new one. (As you can probably see by the list of fandoms that I've written fic for…)_

_Rock on, world, and don't sleep because Darcy is out there. *wink*_

_-t.h._


	12. Clint Barton

**12. Clint Barton**

There were very few things Clint wouldn't expect from Darcy at one point or another. He had seen her terrorizing border agents, Hell's Angels, the best employees of SHIELD, the Southern California Coast Guard, and the talent scout for a porn studio. The 21-year-old had harassed and snarked her way through Disneyworld, NASCAR, the Kentucky Derby, a lobster-eating contest in Maine, and a hostage situation with HYDRA. On a more positive note, Darcy had charmed, bullshitted and tricked her way into the good graces of three foreign ambassadors, the entirety of the Avengers (And since brokering some kind of deal involving paperwork, that list now involved even Phil.), the badass MOFO that was Director Fury, Magneto (A story that was pretty anti-climactic compared to expectations.), the wealthiest oil tycoon in Texas, the weird old homeless guy who was always outside the New York Public Library, and _JARVIS_.

Still, walking in to find her pounding away, with obvious skill, on the grand piano Tony had admitted buying for the look and not the sound - that was a shock. The music was powerful, alternately serene and cacophonous, highlighting its no-doubt classical nature. Her fingers glanced and stretched and pressed across the ivory keys with comfortable familiarity.

The archer silently stood in the doorway at her back for another six minutes until the piece came to a fading close. After a minute, Clint had to ask. "What was that?"

Jumping, the performer spun and actually turned pink when she realized Clint had been watching.

It was JARVIS who answered the question. "The piece is Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 17 in D Minor, commonly yet inaccurately referenced as "The Tempest Sonata". It is also one of my favorites examples of early 19th century compositions. Upon discovering Darcy's talent, I requested a personal performance.

"Thank you, Darcy. That was admirably done."

Cheeks still rosy, she nodded to the nearest camera. "It was my pleasure, J."

Turning back, she glowered at Clint. "Not. A. Word."

Her growl was received and then dismissed, before the agent raised his eyebrows and commented, "You know, this is the first time I've seen you blush."

And the color spread as she stood and stomped past him out of the room.

Clint stared after her for a moment, still slightly stunned, before he said, "So, you got a recording of that, right?"

A chuckle Clint had never heard before met the enquiry, and JARVIS confirmed, "Indeed, Agent Barton, a recording has been saved into my private collection. Would you care for a copy?"

"Oh yeah." He smiled softly. "Darcy Lewis - always a surprise."

**…**

_a/n This chapter involves a nod to another movie Kat Dennings was in: Raise Your Voice. Extremely cheesy movie that I loved when it first came out. Then I watched it again and became aware of just _how much_ Hilary Duff couldn't act. Still, some of the music was cool, and Kat Dennings was awesome as the hyper-focused, socially awkward piano prodigy. Thus, this chappie. *laugh* For those who wondered about JARVIS's taste in music, send me a PM and I'll give you the list._


	13. Bonus Chapter - Loki Laufeyson

**Bonus Chapter: Loki Laufeyson**

Loki did not want to be here.

He knew, since it was revealed that he had not been in control of himself during the previous year's events, his brother had been fervent in his attempts to show a better side of the trickster to Thor's Midgardian companions.

Still, only one had displayed any willingness to meet with the Jotun prince, a young woman, barely into adulthood by Midgardian standards. Thor had called her "Lady Darcy", but Loki would not dignify her with such a title, for all his brother had praised her as both fierce and fearless.

It was weakness to show curiosity when facing a possible enemy, whether they were currently a threat or not. She would receive no honorable title, no matter her words.

Thor had stood from the table of the compact café for beverages and snacks and told Loki to remain in his seat while the warrior went to buy sustenance.

He was still at the far counter when there was a chime as the glass door swung open and a woman pranced into the space. From the frank manner in which she scanned the room, before her eyes settled unerringly on him, he could only assume this was the girl of whom Thor had spoken.

Loki was unhappy to discover she was fair to look on, and he approved of the manner in which she kept her dark hair, extensive and at an appropriate length to best flatter her inherent femininity, unlike the shorn crimson locks of the female spider with which he had grappled during the past attempted conquest.

Standing at a fair height, she approached him with boldness, although her fashion of dress was confounding. Exemplified by a close-cut tunic, shredded in strange patterns at the shoulders and to either side of her petite waist, adorned with the baffling legend "What Fun is Being Cool if You Can't Wear a Sombrero?", which had been matched with a simple but tight pair of the blue leggings so common to this reality, the clothing somehow exaggerated her well-formed, womanly figure.

"Hiya, Horned Envy," she winked, before pulling out the chair across from him and slipping into it. Returning his glower with a giggle, the girl shared a short and slightly insulting explanation. "It's kinda poetic, and fits perfectly. You know, _green with envy_, and you wore that weird headpiece that made it seem like you were compensating for_something_, based on the length and curve of the shiny bits. So we'll go with that."

Loki was exceedingly grateful when his brother returned bearing drinks for their trio, beaming widely to see the trickster and the girl apparently interacting peacefully.

As the large blond man reclaimed his seat, the communications devices of both Thor and the girl began to beep and announced flippantly, in the prerecorded voice of that self-obsessed meddler Tony Stark, "Get off your asses, it's Avengin' Time!" Loki's brother appeared torn, glancing from the device to his younger sibling and back again. It was the girl who decided the issue, pointing her finger toward the door. Still, Thor hesitated. Rolling her eyes, the female scolded him, "Go on, get out of here. I'll watch over the pretty pouty princess here, and you can come back and check that we didn't kill each other after you kick some bad guys where it hurts."

The determined, battle-ready expression that settled on Thor's face was followed by gathering himself out of the chair and making a sharp turn as he moved swiftly, confidence and power in his walk, towards the exit.

Once the fair-haired man had left the premises, the girl and Loki turned to truly study one another.

Then her mouth curved up into what was almost a smile, both soft and sad, before she spoke. The woman's opening salvo left Loki off-balance. "You know, Thor still loves you? Despite everything you've done, he still considers you his brilliant baby brother. Admittedly, up until the past few weeks, he kept his mouth shut about you around Clint and Agent Oscar-the-Grouch. Which is a bit weird, 'cause normally he'd not big on tact, or aware of awkward topics. I think maybe Jane explained it to him…

"But me and Jane, we heard all about the tricks you played and the fun the pair of you used to have."

Loki could not deny that her words were truth. He knew Thor still saw him as a beloved sibling, despite no longer deserving it, indeed it was the only reason the trickster had not run, far and fast and away, after his powers were unbound from the enchantment Odin had placed upon him, limiting his magic.

Before he could speak, the girl continued, forthright. "I get it, okay? You got screwed over royally by your adoptive father, by the culture of his High Court, by whoever the dude was really controlling the Chitauri. And if you have kids like Norse mythology claims, holy _crap_, I'm legitimately sorry for all the shit Asgard must put them through."

The girl paused and leaned closer, bright eyes dancing. "Side note, you are one seriously kinky bastard when it comes to doing the dirty."

He could feel his brows pull down and together in his puzzlement at her meaning. Studying him, she dropped her face into her hands, a gesture of incredulous exasperation before straightening. "You know? Sex."

Loki did not know the word.

Noting his lack of recognition, the girl appeared truly stymied. Then she began to list terms which he either could not identify, or of which he did not understand the significance.

"Sleep with? Screw around? Do the deed? Copulation? Take a ride? Party in your pants? Make love? The backseat mambo? The bad touch? The after-after party? Gettin' down in the dark?" When she finally recognized his utter lack of comprehension, she smirked and shook her hips and shoulders while singsonging. "_Bow-chicka bow-now_." Then the girl rolled her eyes and spoke in an annoyed but formal cadence. "To share your bed as man and wife. To know another in the most intimate physical manner."

"Ah." Thinking back, Loki questioned, "What does the term 'kinky' signify?"

"Out of the ordinary, in that a lot of folks consider it inappropriate or weird, or are uncomfortable with the idea. And you turned yourself into a female horse to get it on with a straight-up, 100% equine stallion. That's pretty much the definition of kinky. Or, you know, that play that Daniel Radcliffe was buckass naked in…

"Anyway, like I was saying, I get it. If even half the stories are true, you got a raw deal.

"I understand the reasoning that made Odin decide to pick up a crying Jotun baby to an extent, but when you really step back and consider, the whole thing suggests a high level of naïvety or pride. First, he kidnaps the prince of the Frost Giants after killing their king. Then he raises the kid as an Asgardian, which means the Frost Giants would consider him an outsider, an enemy, and probably refuse to trust or follow him. Then he lies to the kid about his heritage, all the while unconsciously judging the child based on his unknown lineage, resulting in an adult who is jealous of the brother the king favors for truly being Asgardian. All-in-all, I've gotta say that Odin is either totally oblivious, or the type of self-righteous jackass who actually believes he's always right and that his actions and opinions will forever be perfect and better than what anyone else might suggest. So normally I would blame childhood trauma, which generally means an adult with a cracked psyche and trust issues, and give you a pass. Except-"

She drew back a hand, and delivered a stinging slap across his cheek.

"-you emotionally wrecked my demigod, you tried to kill my agent, and you totally mind-screwed my one call!"

"I…" he paused, his hand unconsciously reaching up to press against the reddening skin, and attempted to draw back. "I don't understand your meaning."

"Right, Asgardian and thinks of humans like ants." Sighing, she leaned closer. "Okay, when people in this country get taken into custody for a crime, they are allowed one phone call. Most folks, it's their lawyer. For me, it's always my Bail Man… And I suppose you don't know about that either?"

Rather than speak, Loki felt it was in his best interest to simply signal that he did not with a head shake.

"Right, well, depending on the crime, a judge will set bail, an amount of money to be paid that allows the accused to leave the prison or jail until their trial. And the court gets to keep the money if they don't show up, or if they're found guilty. Get it?" the woman questioned, then scowled. "Believe me, you can only skip out on it so many times before people stop covering your bail and you find yourself in lock-up. Which isn't fun, unless you get thrown in with Miami drag queens. Lucille taught me how to do this awesome braid thing, and Tina Turner the Second did my nails with a gorgeous blue nail polish that I couldn't find _anywhere_ else."

At his blank look, she bit her lip. "Right, getting off track. It's an issue. Anyway, Clint's _my_ Bail Man and you seriously messed up his head, and I am going to hold that against you until you get your enormous, helmeted head our of your ass and make reparations.

"I mean with the Doc, it wasn't so bad. He gained all sorts of knowledge about Asgardian magic and Chitauri science, rather than a suffocating pile of guilt."

She frowned distantly, getting lost in the memories of a number of freak outs from her archer. Movies where someone was blackmailed or mind controlled had officially been taken off their Netflix queue, as had any that involved part of a couple betraying the other. Plus, even though she loved cuddling up to Clint when they were tired and Agent Probably-Has-a-BDSM-Fetish was away from the Tower, the panic attacks that occasionally woke him up made her want to cry and scream at the world.

When she continued, her voice was rough. "Clint killed his own people while you were controlling him. He helped you escape on the Helicarrier where you almost killed Coulson. He thought Agent Frowny-Face was dead and that it was his fault. I know better. You were the one to blame for making him believe he'd assisted in killing his lover."

"It was poor luck, not any malicious intent, which caused me to use the power of the staff on Barton," Loki grumbled. "Were another guard to have been watching over the Tesseract, we would not be having this conversation."

She brushed the explanation aside with the basic assertion, "You told him he had heart. And that you could use that, and you did.

"Besides, Clint told me a little about what it was like under the glowy cube's power." _Very_ little, and only when he was very, _very_ drunk and Agent Rambo-is-a-Pussy wasn't around." He was forcefully dedicated to your cause, mind, body and soul, but beyond that he was still himself. Any resentments or fondness, any emotional attachment or anger from before remained. Even under a psychic _ton_ of magic, he still loved Phil.

"But that's also where the guilt comes in, because he _chose_ to go after specific people. There were several places and groups he could have got the materials you demanded, but he chose where to go and, adversely, who to kill."

Loki was silent throughout her recitation of facts. More than ever, he found his soul desperately loathing Thanos, the Chitauri's lord and master.

"It wasn't whoever was playing the equivalent of Emperor Palpatine that decided Clint should spearhead an attack on his fellow SHIELD agents. It wasn't the Final Boss who ordered Clint to do things against his moral code. No, that was all you, Verdigris."

He wanted to protest, throw the accusation back into her face, to deny every word because tricksters are not brought to trial or judgement for their choices.

Still, it appeared that Midgardians were not the only race who could feel shame.

For a few, bare minutes, the girl allowed him time and silence to contemplate his decisions while in the grip of Thanos and the Tesseract. Her accusations held a significant measure of validity that he had previously refused to acknowledge. Perhaps a level of penance was due.

Eventually, she spoke again. "While you're figuring out how to start making things right, I was hoping we could strike up a mutually promising arrangement. Not a friends-with-benefits thing though 'cause I've finally got Bruce." As before, Loki found her unusual terms incomprehensible and decided that it was not worth asking for clarification. She carried on, unabated. "I _like_ that guy that from Thor's stories. And I can guess that you could probably use someone in your corner besides your bro and your mom. So, would you be interested?"

Loki let an eyebrow creep upward, his curiosity waking. "You are offering an alliance?"

Snorting, she shook her head. "No, you dummy. I'm offering a _friendship_."

The trickster was stunned. He never before received such an open invitation. In Asgard, there were none who would willingly claim such a title, and Sif and the Warriors Three merely tolerated Loki out of affection for his brother.

Now, here sat a woman who should, by her age, be young and foolish. The words she had shared, however, were both guileless and wise. Despite the transgressions of the Jotun prince against those she loved, she still held out a symbolic hand of favor and solidarity, of affection, to the trickster.

He had been determined to remain unimpressed, to resist the charm of the girl which had captured Thor's loyalty. Yet now, he found himself unwilling to sacrifice the possibility of whatever this could become. Rather than spurn her proposal, he allowed a true smile to soften his features. Then he paused. "You companions will not approve of our mutual overtures of friendship," mused Loki.

Remembering on of her favorite of Thor's stories, particularly the witty rejoinder from the trickster across from her, she winked. "Sweetheart, I do what I want."

And the demigod jerked in surprise, before surrendering to laughter.

No one was sure how to react when a gorgeous bow, hand-carved from yew and embellished with carvings and gold inlay, appeared in the shared kitchen of the Tower. It was accompanied by a quiver full of arrows tipped with a variety of magical spells to confuse, dazzle or knock unconscious an opponent.

Then there was the parcel of twelve ties that was delivered to Coulson's work office, each with special features reminiscent of old spy movies. (One released a gaseous form of chloroform without affecting the wearer, while a second twisted to reveal a razor shaper blade. A third could be folded out and stretched impossibly far, creating a thin but strong rope. The others had a powerful electrical charge, a hidden garrote, a _flamethrower_ _tie_ which Tony tried repeatedly to steal, an invisible shield that would protect the wearer from projectiles and torture, a chameleon-like ability to blend and disappear into surroundings, one that cause any malicious spells to rebound on the caster, a resistance to any manner of mind control, healing from both major and minor injuries, and a recording and homing device which relayed locations, videos, sound and vital statistics to SHIELD and JARVIS.)

And finally, an adorably adventurous, roly poly labrador puppy that was discovered playfully barking and growling, surrounded by toys, food and a doggy bed, stumbling and bouncing across Thor's sheets.

Each gift was accompanied by a simple note that read "_All my apologies for my harmful actions. -L_"

Darcy was the one to convince Clint and Coulson to accept the unexpected symbols of remorse. And even then, it was only by swearing on her new, grey Luxebutix boots that she trusted Loki not to try anything stupid, or she would hunt him down and force him to listen to nothing but Disney princess songs until he cracked.

The couple hadn't forgiven him, but both had to admit the trickster had given forethought to the immeasurably useful offerings, making something good with his powers.

Of course, the penguins in Tony's iced over workshop were not as well received.

**… …**

**…**

**… …**

_a/n New offer of cookies for anyone who recognizes the nod to the "Calvin and Hobbes" comics! As for the "I do what I want" bit, if you don't recognize it, google the phrase plus Loki and see what comes up._

_So, this is the end of this one fic. But not of the story altogether! _**The sequel should be up ten minutes or so after this one! It is titled "…And Everyone Else"!**_ It should be a fun ride, to be followed by the third part, which will be titled "…Everywhere". And that one will be an absurdly epic series of crossovers with any and every fandom I can get my frantically fingerling paws on. For both sequels, I will take requests for characters or fandoms that she will interact with, and I will do my best to fill them. However, if I am not familiar with the person/fandom, or if I am not confident in writing the characters, it will probably not be included. Still, ask and ye *might* receive._

_As for _**_AEE_**_ - first, I will be basing the characters on my own interpretations of the comics more than the movies, for the most part. Second, be warned, there are defining characteristics of certain individuals from the Marvel Universe with whom I think Darcy would have serious problems. Thus if you like Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Odin Allfather or Charles Xavier/Professor X, you should probably skip their chapters… Just a warning. And if I get flames despite this prior notice for those chapters because you are a fan of said characters, I will post the comments online and mock them incessantly. *wink*_

_Love you all and thank you so much for your support and interest in this fic!_

_-t.h._


End file.
